


Champion

by gardenofmaris



Series: Champion [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, Claiming, Humiliation, M/M, Public Sex, Rape, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardenofmaris/pseuds/gardenofmaris
Summary: Sendak approaches Shiro with a proposal he isn't allowed to turn down: fight Sendak and kill him, or lose and become his pet





	Champion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaladicks_GeekMom13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaladicks_GeekMom13/gifts).



> I've written dark shit but I think this is my darkest. Uhhhh, yeah, read the tags please, this isn't a v pleasant story  
> I'm sorry I love breaking Shiro so much  
> (but am I really??)

Shiro's chest heaved with each exhausted breath that pulled through his burning lungs. The fight was finally, blessedly over.

His opponent laid dead at his feet, the blood that hadn't soaked Shiro seeping into the hard ground beneath him to create another one of the various stains that Shiro knew would never leave this arena. He was sure that by the time he was gone, the tightly packed dirt would be completely filled with the rainbow of different species’ blood. Just the thought made him nauseous.

He licked his lips without thinking, trying to get some moisture in his mouth, only to flinch when the action caught the bitter taste of the blood that had splashed across his face only moments before the final blow. He scowled down at the ground, his breathing finally slowing to a more sedate pace. After a moment, the cheers and screams of the crowd finally filtered into his ears, slowly raising to a deafening pitch.

He couldn't wait to get out of there.

He knew that he was good, he was the Champion after all, but there was something about watching those that he’d slaughtered fall to the ground and take their final breaths. The bots that the Galra had for up close cameras always zoomed in for the end, blowing the dying alien up onto multiple large screens so that every Galra in the arena could see the light of life leave their eyes.

Currently, the bot was focused on him, and he peeked up towards one of the screens to see it rove up and down his body, highlighting the thick, viscous fluids that had spilled all over his torso. He scowled at the bot and swatted at it, only for his scowl to deepen when it only zoomed in closer. He bared his teeth and growled at it, before striking it with his Galra arm. It gave him petty pleasure to see the bot’s circuits sparking with electricity, dying not unlike the alien it had so blatantly put up for the room to see.

When he was finally allowed to leave and head back to his cell, accompanied by guards of course, he let out a deep sigh at the idea of laying in bed and going to sleep. Maybe he’d wake up. Maybe he wouldn’t. He didn’t particularly care anymore.

It wasn’t until he was mere yards from his cell that the guards guiding him were stopped. Annoyance flared up at him. What the hell did they want from him now? He just wanted to rest, to get some sleep. It wasn’t like the Druids wanted him; they never took him after a match because their results were always best when he was in top physical shape. Usually they would wait until the day after the match, when he’d been able to sleep, that dreamless coma-like state that the Druids’ medicine created in him.

“I would like to speak to the Champion.”

Shiro’s heart lurched.

_ Fuck _ .

He knew that voice.

The guards in front of him parted, showing the last Galra that Shiro had ever wanted to see. He would rather face Zarkon a million times than come toe to toe with Sendak. At least it looked like Zarkon had a reason for his insanity. Sendak was just a freak of nature that should have been drowned as a cub.

Instead, the sadistic Galra was standing in front of him, mouth curled in a cruel sneer. Shiro felt violated just being in his presence, the familiar way Sendak undressed him with his eyes every time he was near making his skin crawl.

He bared his teeth at Sendak, making his dislike clear.

“What did you want,  _ Galra _ ?”

He spat the name, knowing fully that he couldn’t let Sendak sense his distress around him. If he ever caught wind of it, he would never stop, and Shiro didn’t think that he could withstand that kind of constant barrage.

Sendak’s sneer transformed into a lazy smile. “I have a… proposition for you.”

Shiro eyed him, mouth turning into a frown. “I have no interest in anything that you have to say, or any proposition that you have to make. All I want is to not have to be near you and your dishonorable ways.”

Instead of flying into a rage the way Shiro would have expected Sendak to, or even showing any hint of being upset, Sendak’s smile just widened.

“I would think that you would be smart enough to know that if I am approaching you, that I have received permission from Emperor Zarkon himself, and that you truly have no choice in this matter.”

Shiro’s frown deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest, watching Sendak closely. He didn’t think that he wanted to know what was up his sleeve, but sadly, he was right. There was no way that Zarkon would ever let a random Galra  _ proposition _ him, not when he risked the wrath of his disgusting witch and her equally disgusting Druids.

There was a plan hatching, one that he was positive he didn’t want to be a part of. Any plan that included Sendak was bound to be no doubt equal parts dangerous and humiliating for Shiro.

Still, he couldn’t walk away, even though he wanted nothing more.

“What’s your proposition then?”

Sendak’s smile looked absolutely menacing, and a shiver ran down his spine.

“I propose a match in the arena,  _ Champion _ .”

Shiro was shocked. That was more than unexpected. He knew the rules of the arena: Victory or Death. To pit him against Sendak meant that either he or Sendak would die, and while Sendak could theoretically be replaced, he hadn’t expected that he would be placed with someone who could  _ actually beat him _ , if given the chance.

There was no way Haggar was that willing to give him up yet. Not with how much effort her and her Druids had put into his experimentations.

His hands were tied. He didn’t know what he was going to do.

“You do know that if I don’t kill you in the ring, Haggar will for ending me.”

Sendak threw his head back, laughing so hard that Shiro thought he was going to break something. After a moment, however, he stopped and looked back down at Shiro. A hunger that had never been this intense before glinted in Sendak’s eyes, and every fiber in Shiro’s body screamed danger. He didn’t like this one bit.

“Oh, if you win, you can kill me and no one will stop you. But if  _ I _ win, and I will, have no doubt in your mind about that, Champion-” Sendak took the final few steps to close the distance between them, leaning down to whisper the rest into his ear. “I’ll be able to take you as my little pet whenever I please.”

Shiro’s blood turned to ice. Deep inside, he knew that this was simply a tactic to try and scare him, to get him out of his fighting headspace and trip him up. Still, it was scarily effective, even if he had no intentions of letting Sendak know that.

“I hope that you’ve set everything up for your death then,” he retorted calmly, forcing himself to not react to Sendak’s closeness.

Sendak didn’t seem all that concerned with his comment, only laughing darkly as he finally pulled away. “I do look forward to taking you many times. I’m curious how long it will take for you to break.” He gave Shiro a charged look, before turning on his heel and sauntering away.

As soon as he was gone, Shiro was ushered forward again, pushed into his cell and the door being locked behind him.

Once inside, the guards that had escorted him left, and Shiro plopped down onto his bed, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. Now that he was finally alone, he could let himself internally freak out over Sendak’s challenge. Where the hell had it come from? Why was Sendak interested in taking  _ him _ as a pet? It didn’t make sense at all, and Shiro knew that this was going to be his most desperate fight yet.

He’d spent his time since Kerberos in cages, always gawked at and used for entertainment, when the Druids weren’t dragging him into too bright rooms filled with pain and experimentation. Now, the idea that Sendak wanted to take that final scrap of freedom that he had left brought a sick feeling to his stomach.

Rolling over, he pressed his face into his threadbare and flat pillow, closing his eyes as he took deep breaths to calm himself.

It would be fine. He would make it fine. He would enter that arena, head held high, and he would slaughter Sendak where he stood.

He didn’t have another choice.

The night passed slowly, each tick reverberating in Shiro’s cells, mind racing with thoughts, images of claws and fangs and fur holding him down into the dirt. He tossed and turned, huffing as he tried to fall asleep. No matter how hard he tried, however, his brain just wouldn’t let him fall asleep.

Before he knew it, hands were yanking him out of bed and into the waking world. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d fallen asleep, but he knew in his bones that it hadn’t been nearly long enough.

That was okay though. He’d gone into fights with less sleep, more injured, against bigger opponents. This match would be no different. He was the Champion, and he was going to win this match.

He paced in the room that they always placed him in before a match, shaking himself and telling himself that he would win as he waited for the gate to open to the arena. Sendak was somewhere on the other end of the arena, he knew, in a room much like this. He let himself ponder what the Galra would be thinking, what he would be doing, before dashing it all away and focusing on himself.

He could do this. He needed to do this.

Which was why, when Sendak shoved his face into the ground and growled into his ear, Shiro couldn’t help but panic.

How? He didn’t understand. He’d worked hard, he knew how to fight. He had the will to get away from the Galra currently pinning him. So  _ why _ was Sendak winning?

He felt his blood turn to ice as claws ran down his side, catching at his hip and tearing at the worn and threadbare fabric there. He squirmed, gasping uselessly as he tried desperately to get out from underneath Sendak.

Sendak tsked at him. “What a bad Champion,” he purred. “You made it too easy.”

Hot breath stirred on the back of Shiro’s neck as his pants were shredded and the cool air of the arena made him hiss in surprise. “I’m going to enjoy mating you for the Empire to see.”

For the-? The statement sunk into Shiro’s mind, and suddenly his struggling had a new fire behind it. No.  _ No _ . He refused to let the Empire see him so debased, so humiliated.

Sendak had other plans. “Your pathetic squirming isn’t going to help you,  _ pet _ .”

“ _ I’m not your pet _ ,” Shiro snarled.

“Not yet. I’m about to fix that, however.”

Before Shiro could even fully comprehend it, Sendak’s hand buried itself in Shiro’s hair, pulling his head back before slamming it into the ground beneath him. The world turned blurry, the noises of the crowd around them becoming muted under the ringing in his ears. Something wet was dripping down his face, and it took him far too long to realize that it was his blood, slowly leaking into his eyes, over his nose, into his mouth.

He’d tasted the blood of many a defeated alien here in this very arena, and now his tongue was coated in the metallic sheen of his own.

Sendak grinned, watching as the Champion’s eyes glazed over, the annoying wiggling almost nonexistent. There was something that set fire to Sendak’s body, seeing the red of his blood leaking down his face. His eyelashes clumped together, becoming more pronounced, the slow blinking of confusion as he tried to get the liquid out. It was exquisite, and Sendak just knew that he wanted to make his pet bleed whenever he got the chance. Using the hand that was still in his hair, he turned the Champion’s face towards his, licking the blood off of his face.

It had the taste of metal to it, something Sendak found beyond intriguing. The Champion made a face, obviously still slow to react, but still sensing the different stimuli around him.

Good. That would make this next part even more fun.

He used his metal arm to keep him pinned down into the ground, trying to get the Champion’s clothes off of him. It was difficult to take everything off with one hand, though, so he quickly gave up and instead clawed the clothes off.

Sendak licked his lips as his eyes raked up and down the Champion’s body, blood leaking sluggishly in the spots where Sendak’s carelessness had caused him to be scratched. It was so beautiful.

Loosening his grip, he used his good arm to grab between the Champion’s legs, lifting him until he was on his knees with his face still pressed into the ground. He heard a soft sound of protest, and the wiggling started up again, but Sendak didn’t give much of a shit at the moment. He was too focused on moving the Champion’s knees apart, exposing him to Sendak and the rest of the arena.

The crowd seemed to particularly enjoy the show, as their screams and whoops of enjoyment rose to a deafening level. Sendak leaned in, taking a deep breath and enjoying the scent of sweat and musk that rose from the Champion.

Having come prepared for his win, Sendak reached down and unclipped the small bottle of lube that he’d brought with him. He smirked down at the struggling human under him. His initial intention had been to prepare the Champion himself, but he wanted this to be more humiliating than that.

“Here,” Sendak growled, letting one of the Champion’s arms loose and placing the bottle in his hand. “Prepare yourself. You may refuse if you please, but that won’t stop your claiming. It will only allow me to tear you in half.”

There was a silence between only the two of them, broken by the soft whimpers between the Champion’s struggling breaths, as he processed what Sendak had said. Eventually, however, he seemed to come to a decision.

“Can’t.... Open the bottle,” he slurred, and Sendak’s grin was victorious.

Taking it from the Champion, he opened the lubricant, spilling it over his fingers and then over the swell of his ass, focusing on his hole.

The roar of the crowd fell to a hushed whisper as the Champion debased himself in front of everyone, pressing his fingers in and stretching himself out slowly. He was obviously shaking, and his soft moans and whines were audible only to Sendak. It made him want to preen, being the Galra with this beautiful sight in front of him, the only Galra who would own the Champion.

He let the Champion prepare himself until his hole was gaping, exposing the soft insides every time it was emptied. Sendak could see how desperate it was to be filled, and he was no longer interested in holding himself back. He swatted the hand away, using what was left of the lube to slick himself up.

There was a beat that he took to push himself into a good mounting position, lining himself up, and letting go of him so that he could grip his hip with his biological arm. In that beat, the Champion’s struggles intensified, though Sendak could tell that he still didn’t have full control over his limbs.

He grinned ferally down at the prone figure beneath him, pushing in slowly. The broken sound that escaped his pet was breathtaking, and Sendak knew that he would be making his pet make that sound for as long as he had him.

His body bowed over that of his pet, hand clenching until the skin was breaking underneath his claws. Sendak growled in pleasure, taking the slightest moment to enjoy how hot and tight he was, before pounding into him brutally.

The crowd was positively howling, egging him on and jeering at his pet. A quick look up at the screens above confirmed that they were focused on the Champion’s face, drying blood and red mud contrasting against his pale skin, face screwed up in pain and disgust.

Before long, however, Sendak found a spot that had his pet twitching beneath him, the moan that escaped him not of pain, but of slight pleasure. Sendak focused on that spot, letting go of his hip long enough to stroke him quickly, pull him to hardness and shame.

At long last, his pet spoke, soft and slurred though it was. “Please. Stop,” he whimpered.

Sendak growled, shaking his head as he leaned down to bite the back of his pet’s neck in a clear show of possession. His pet screamed quietly in pain, hands scrabbling desperately at the dirt as he tried to get away.

“Never,” he whispered against his skin. “For too long I have watched and wanted you, Champion. Now that you’re mine, you will never escape me.”

By the time Sendak came, his pet had not, but he was hard and wanting, and Sendak knew that the frustration and shame would war. It was perfectly humiliating.

The crowd cheered at the end of the show, and as they all filed out, Sendak pulled up and out of his pet, leering at the way his hole dripped lube and cum, filthy and decadent.

He went to lift his pet off of the ground, laughing softly as he continued to struggle and whined, trying to pull away from his new owner. Sendak could hear the curses and anger that filled his pet’s voice, covering the desperation and fear that rolled off of him in waves.

With the state he was in, however, it was no time before Sendak was lifting his pet off the ground. He curled up a lip at the mud that covered his body, knowing that he would have to give his pet a bath when they reached him room.

He smiled at the thought of his room, in particular the collar and chains and skimpy robes adorned with gold to make his pet the prettiest of them all. He couldn’t wait to chain his pet to the bed and take what was his, again and again until his pet was begging for it.


End file.
